


The Cameras Are (Not) Coming

by HarpiaHarpyja



Series: A Song of Trash and Fire [7]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ben and Rey Do Portland, Did We Just Netflix and Chill?, F/M, First Time (Kind of), Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Foreplay, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Reylo - Freeform, Smut, The Return of Korrie, Unca Wanwo: MVP, Vacation, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Writer Ben Solo, breakfast date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 13:40:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15607488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarpiaHarpyja/pseuds/HarpiaHarpyja
Summary: As their two-week stay in Portland draws to a close, Ben is tying up loose ends on the employment front and Rey is enjoying the final days of her first-ever vacation. After a night out, they finally make good use of the privacy afforded by Lando's luxurious—and otherwise unoccupied—downtown bachelor pad.(A companion story to 'A Song of Trash and Fire: Ben and Rey Make a Porno', serving as an interim ficlet exploring events between Chapters 14 and 15.)





	The Cameras Are (Not) Coming

**Author's Note:**

> This week's ficlet offers a (voyeuristic?) look at what Ben and Rey get up to after Chapter 14 of 'A Song of Trash and Fire: Ben and Rey Make a Porno'—just in time for the upcoming conclusion in Chapter 15!
> 
> It is high time they got some quality alone time, and another sex scene (unrecorded this time, thanks).

Ben woke with a start to a flash of blue light from the television and a low, throaty sound that he recognized a moment later as Rey’s soft snores. She was curled up atop the bedspread with her back to him, half an arm’s length away from where he was sprawled on his back. The last thing he remembered was watching some stupid sci-fi movie they’d found in the ether of HBO’s latest offerings. There was something hard under his butt. He reached down and found the remote digging into him. 

To be fair, it had been a long day for both of them, even if they hadn’t seen much of each other until the evening. He’d had an opening shift at Barista—his last, which was actually bittersweet—and then had gone directly to an afternoon grind at Powell’s where he would be saying his final farewell in two day’s time. Meanwhile, Rey had spent the day exploring the Pearl District on her own and occasionally texting him photos of something she found interesting or amusing, including a selfie of her eating some sort of monstrous cream-filled donut. He hadn't been able to tell if it was supposed to be envy-inducing, suggestive, funny, or all three.

Later they’d met up with Lando at Andina, a Peruvian place he’d insisted on treating them to for their last Friday in the city. It was the second time he’d taken them out to dinner in as many weeks, which essentially amounted to the only time they saw him while they’d been here; he had shuffled off to his other place in Rockaway Beach to “give them privacy” for the duration of their stay. Yet after a few rounds of drinks, course after course of delicious tapas, and some live music, it was difficult to feel like they were intruding—but that was just Lando’s way, wasn’t it? He’d kept them out for hours.

So when Ben and Rey had arrived back at the house shortly after nine, they were replete and dopey and ready to rest. They’d kicked off their shoes and settled in to watch some TV in his bedroom, which had seemed like a good way to unwind. And now he was waking up with a crust of drool at the corner of his mouth and an ache in his back from where the remote had been pressing for the better part of an hour. Maybe they’d taken the unwinding part a little too seriously.

He rolled onto his side to face Rey, who was enviably sound asleep. There was a lot on his mind—moving back to Philly in just a few days, his reluctant decision to live with his parents for a while, the writing he wanted to do . . . the imperative to find a decent job (or jobs, if he was being realistic) again so he could continue saving up and move out come autumn. For some reason all of that was weighing on him at once now, like it had just been waiting for the buzz of the alcohol to wear off to do so. 

In a bid to clear his head, Ben took a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, and exhaled through his mouth. It didn’t help much; watching Rey’s back rise and fall was doing far more to relax him. He reached a hand over and let his fingers lightly rest in her hair, which was fanned out messily over a pillow, then scooted closer, hoping the movement wouldn’t disturb her. Sometimes she spent nights here with him, but for the most part she’d been sleeping in her own bed. He wanted tonight to be one of the former.

But as soothing as it was to have the heat of her body so close, and the tangled softness of her hair under his fingertips, and even the sound of her little snores over the white noise of the streets outside, he could not for the life of him get back to sleep. After fifteen minutes of trying, he resigned himself to his current state, clicked the TV off—which he maybe should have done to begin with—and pushed himself to get out of bed and find something to tire his brain out.

Writing . . . he could try that, at least. He had his laptop set up in the small office that joined his room to the bedroom Rey had claimed. The arrangement almost felt like staying in a hotel suite, except that they had an entire house at their disposal, including an obscenely high-tech kitchen and an enormous bathroom with a jacuzzi tub. One day, Ben was going to need to find a way to repay the kindness Lando had done them, but trying to think of it now was daunting. 

He tossed his shirt into a laundry basket, changed into a pair of sweatpants, then made a quick stop in the bathroom down the hall to brush his teeth and grab a glass of water before he headed over to the office. The laptop was already booted up from the night before, the document he’d been working on still open. It was a very general outline of the novel for which he had written a very general draft chapter in the weeks leading up to his return to the east coast. As he resumed reading over it, he sort of thought it was shit, but that was probably normal. He was out of practice.

Besides, the task of proofreading was currently little more than an excuse to lull himself into enough of a stupor that he could return to bed and actually fall asleep until morning. So Ben steeled himself, opened the chapter, and started to read where he’d left off last. It didn’t take long for him to lose track of time, because he was too busy mentally flogging himself every few paragraphs over some truly ridiculous prose— _had_ he been drunk when he wrote this? Maybe. His glass of water was empty, and he was about to get up to refill it when the door creaked open behind him.

He looked over his shoulder and found Rey standing in the doorway, silhouetted in the warm light coming from his room. 

“Hey,” she said, waving as she wandered into the room and stopped just behind him. “What’re you doing?”

“Nothing.” Closing the laptop or minimizing the document or trying to block the screen seemed juvenile, so Ben just sat there looking up at her and hoping she didn’t read it. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just woke up and wasn’t sure where you’d gone.” Rey squinted, and her eyes scanned the screen. Dammit. “Oh, is this the thing you’ve been writing?”

Ben nodded, his eyes darting back to the screen and then to her again. “Mm hm. I’ve concluded it might actually be trash.”

She laughed and then made a disapproving little groan, her hand coming to rest on his shoulder, squeezing once. “I doubt that. Can I see?”

“Uh. It’s really not in any state to be read. At all.”

“Can I see it sometime when it is?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t usually like other people reading things I write until they’re ready to be.”

“Hey, you let me read that script in high school when we weren’t even friends. And you let me help you write the porno.”

He grimaced. “That was different.”

In lieu of an answer, maybe sensing that she wasn’t going to get her way on this tonight, Rey circled around and patted him on the chest until he took the hint and scooted his chair back from the desk enough for her to sit on his thigh. He saw her steal another peek at the screen, but then she turned her attention back to him and looped an arm over his shoulders. Sleep hadn't quite left her eyes, and her hair on the right side of her head was squashed down where she’d been laying on it, but there was a liveliness in her demeanor anyway. 

“Come back to bed?”

“You staying over tonight?” he teased, as if the difference wasn’t of only a few doors down the hall.

“If you’re coming back soon, yes.”

“Okay. Yeah.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed the top of her arm, where the hem of her sleeve ended. It was still strange to be so casually affectionate, even in private, after years of settling into habits and boundaries. But it was nice, too. Really nice. He was happy to start getting used to it. “In a bit.” 

He’d finish up a few more pages, shut down when he was sufficiently convinced of his own ineptitude as a writer, and go back to his room—and Rey. At this point he was pretty sure sleep would come more easily, and if it didn’t, he now had assurance he could cuddle up to her without risking her waking up and deciding to go back to her own bed. 

But evidently, Rey had different ideas. She scooted further into his lap, drew her other arm around him, and kissed him. There was no tongue or lip-biting, but it was not a particularly demure kiss. When she broke away, she let her mouth linger temptingly close to his, grinning as she asked, “Now?” 

Before he could answer one way or the other, she pressed her lips to the side of his neck, this time getting her teeth involved—it was just a playful nip, but he suddenly had no interest in doing any more writing tonight. If she wanted to make out or mess around before they went back to bed, that seemed far more agreeable than anything he’d had planned.

“Hmm.” Hands resting on her hips, he tilted his head to let her continue kissing her way slowly along his neck toward his throat. “Now sounds good, actually.”

She giggled and mumbled something into his skin as he reached around her to close his laptop and push it away. “What?”

“I said”—she paused and sat back, her hands drifting from his shoulders to his chest—“that your voice tickles if you talk when I'm kissing you there.”

“Does it?” Ben let his gaze drift over her face, pecked her on the mouth, and kept his lips to hers as he said, “How about this?”

She laughed again and caught his lip with her teeth for a moment before drawing away and draping herself over him. Breath hot at his ear, she muttered, “Don’t get up yet,” then maneuvered herself not-quite-gracefully to slip one leg over his lap so that she was straddling him in the chair. Satisfied, she hunkered down over him, pulled her hands up into his hair, and resumed kissing him.

A few delirious minutes passed during which the only sounds in the otherwise quiet house were the legs of the chair occasionally scraping the wooden floor when Rey ground her hips over him enough to move it and the increasing rate of their breathing—and, as Ben worked a hand gradually up under her shirt, her low chuckle. Reluctant as he was to break away from that, his legs were beginning to go a bit numb with her weight on them, so he withdrew just enough to get a good grip on her sides and lift her off his lap and onto the desktop. 

“Careful!” she warned, squirming further back onto the desk, rattling his empty glass and groping behind her to make sure the laptop hadn’t just been compromised.

“So sorry.” He grinned slyly, then rose and leaned over her to cut short any further accusations of foul play. She quivered and hummed against his mouth as his hand found its way under her shirt again, skimming the ticklish spots along her stomach and ribs, but relaxed when he settled it to caress her lightly over her bra.

She got her legs hooked behind his and pulled him closer, then faltered when she bumped into the computer again. “You’re gonna make me crush your laptop,” she said, a bit breathless, letting her fingers rest at the back of his neck.

“Good, it’ll save me from having to read what I wrote.” He was only half joking and took the opportunity to trace a few softer kisses over her cheek.

“Let me be more direct. We should relocate? This probably isn’t the best place to be doing this . . .”

“Hm.” He pinned her beneath him but stole a look at the desk. It was cluttered even without accounting for his laptop and water glass, scattered over with papers, pens, a half empty bag of chips, and other evidence of late-nights spent laboring over his project. “You’re probably right.”

She kissed his cheek and looked at him in a very poor play at innocence. “Carry me?”

“Sure. Hold still a second.” 

“Hold still for what?” 

Rey gave a squeal of surprise as Ben got his arms around her and hoisted her clean off the desk and over his shoulder into something that was neither a practical fireman carry, nor a perhaps more sentimental bridal carry, nor any configuration that allowed them to continue making out as he moved them toward his bedroom. Instead, her head and torso were hanging precariously down over his back, her hip was squashing his ear as her legs crooked at his chest, and her ass was in the air in a most undignified manner. 

“This is not what I meant!” she cried, kicking her legs and flailing her arms to no avail.

“Yeah, I know. If you keep squirming like that, I’m probably going to drop you.” 

It was a sincere warning—he had a good grip on her, but she was moving around a lot and shaking as she continued to cackle. She swatted at his butt a few times as he made the short trip to his room, which only amused him, so he returned the favor before he let her drop gently to the mattress. She rolled over, hair even more askew than it had been in the office, face aglow and eyes teary from gravity and how hard she’d been laughing. 

“You big . . . troll.” She grimaced, finding her own comeback wanting as she regained her balance and pushed herself up onto her knees. 

Rey cleared her throat like she was about to make an important declaration, but then only looked at him meaningfully and pulled her shirt up over her head, tossing it aside onto the floor. A second later she was tugging her leggings off and kicking them away after her shirt. She sat back on the bed casually, cross-legged, head cocked. 

“You planning to join me?”

She was wearing an unremarkable black bralette, mismatched with a pair of boyshorts that were covered in some colorful eyesore of a geometric print—a far cry from the lingerie set she’d worn when they filmed. But as hot as she’d looked then, Rey was far sexier, far more beautiful like this, when she was just herself. Just the woman he’d fallen in love with so slowly and completely that he couldn’t even say _when_ his feelings for her had crossed the line from whatever she had been to him before. There was no question of him joining her.

He barely had a chance to sit beside her before she moved in and kissed him rather lightly, letting her cool hands roam over his skin. Their eyes met and for a few seconds she held his gaze; he tried to memorize the flecks of green in her irises until she blinked and nuzzled his cheek. “Hello.” 

“Hi.” Ben grinned and wondered if this was the part where they just called it a night and turned in. Last he’d checked, they were still testing the waters of physical intimacy on their own terms. But just in case it wasn’t that point in the night quite yet—or maybe in a bid to make sure that it wasn’t—he wrapped his arms around her and brushed his lips along her jaw. “We meet again, you exquisite creature.”

“Oh, I like that,” she murmured into his cheek. When she sighed a moment later he felt her mouth curving into a smile, and she sounded so happy it almost shook him. 

She twisted out of his embrace to lie back and coax him down with her, her hands brushing his face as he began to let his mouth wander down her neck and collarbone, over her sternum. He slowed at her breasts, tracing his tongue beneath the edge of her bra cups and sucking at the skin there, kissing her over the thin fabric and catching at it gently with his teeth. She dug her fingers into his shoulder as she ran her other hand through his hair. 

They’d been flirting with this for the last week or so—passing touches, hands finding their way under articles of clothing—though admittedly Rey was now probably the least clothed either of them had been during such an occasion. On that front, he had no complaints. It was just difficult to parse where the line was now. But so far they’d been figuring that out well enough, and he’d learned to stop thinking about it.

And Rey wasn’t exactly being discouraging. “You get lost?” she asked, propping herself up on her elbows and fixing him with a curious look. 

He’d stayed the course, as it were, kissing his way down her stomach and navel, slowing near her hips at the waistline of her panties. Close up, the pattern on them was still bizarre: birds, or maybe lizards, all linked up in a tessellating design, vibrant green and orange and blue. 

“Did you know you’ve got an entire Escher drawing down here?” he asked, shaking himself out of a distraction brought on by both the pattern and how close he was to having his face between her legs, and wondering when—if—she was going to tell him to stop.

Her stomach twitched with a sharp laugh, and he placed a kiss on her hip bone as she said, “Hey, be nice, that’s my favorite pair.”

“You have favorite underwear?” Experimentally, Ben dragged a hand up her thigh and over the slight dip between her hips. She breathed out harder at that.

“You _don’t_?” 

Rey’s breath caught again when he traced a thumb down between her legs and went back to kissing the skin along her waistband. He let his fingers follow, tentatively glancing over the fabric—she was damp. Dammit, he wanted to . . . Ben brought his hand away and stroked her thigh again, then glanced up at her. She was watching him and biting her lip, cheeks pink. Well, he had her full attention, clearly.

He shifted back up and kissed her a few times. “Want me to keep going?”

“Keep going?”

“Can I go down on you?” 

It felt ridiculous to ask, when she’d already let him do that and more, only the once. That was the point, though, wasn’t it? Sometimes it felt like anything they’d done for the porno didn’t count at all; sometimes it felt like the opposite was true, and it had counted almost too much. The reality likely lay between the two. But ever since he’d gone to Rose's to apologize, nearly everything he did with Rey felt like a first. And if this _had_ truly been a first for them, Ben would have asked.

She looked surprised, but grinned. “You're pretty down on me already.”

“Is that a nice way of you saying no?” Ben wondered if he'd assumed wrong. It seemed unlikely; but the fact that he was here with her like this at all would have seemed infinitely more unlikely not so long ago.

“I’d have to be insane to pass that up,” she said through a laugh. “It's a yes. _Please_. That would be amazing.”

“Good.” He was more relieved than he would like to admit. “Because I really, really want to.”

She gave his hair a playful tug. “Then why did you ask?”

“Because we’ve been . . .” He tried to think of the words he wanted to say and stalled by leaving a trail of kisses over her collarbone. “We’ve been taking our time. I didn’t want to assume.”

“That’s very sweet of you, but this is one assumption you can safely make.”

“Any other assumptions I can safely make?” 

“We’re both going to enjoy tonight very much.”

Her hand was wandering over the side of his face, and he kissed her, smiling. “Noted.”

Ben didn’t waste any more time on talk, and there was no shortage of space on the king bed as they both shifted into a better position and he slid her panties down her legs, doing nothing to conceal his eagerness. Rey draped her legs over his shoulders, digging her heels against his back teasingly and relaxing when his hands came to rest at her hips. He barely touched her at first, just ran his hands lightly over her thighs and looked at her, mouthed his way down from her navel, slowed over the faint curve of her mound. He flattened his tongue and dragged it up along the inner crease of her right thigh.

Rey’s heel dug more firmly into him and she exhaled a shaky breath. He lifted his head just enough to glance up at her face. Her head was tipped back and canting left, her mouth parted with anticipation. He _had_ missed this the last time, hadn’t he—being able to see her, and hear her clearly? Just the thought of it was sending a wave of heat over him, and he could feel his cock getting harder. Ben returned to the spot he’d just been licking, holding her leg to him to suck the skin there more easily. He was centering himself, nuzzling her labia and toying with the idea of getting a finger or two into her when her hips tilted and she trembled against his face.

“Holy shit. I think you—can you just . . . sort of . . . drag your chin over me?”

“Like this?” Ben backed off just enough to angle his face and let his chin drift over the cleft between her legs, barely applying pressure. He felt her wet heat, though, and the mild friction of her on the scruff of his beard—she must have too, because she made a long, low sound of approval.

“Yes. God. Yes, that's good.” She laughed quietly, maybe at herself, maybe because of the sensation, and he did it again. It made her squirm in the most delightful way. “That's nice. I thought I liked you clean shaven, but you’re changing my mind right now.”

He smirked and did it a few more times, aware of her eyes on him, pausing each time to kiss her in some new spot or to let his tongue whisper along the edge of her lips. When she snaked her fingers into his hair, he took that as encouragement to proceed as he wished. It was so much better when he could gauge the fullness of her reactions—she liked it best when he paid more attention to her right side, when he curled his tongue against her clit, when he paused to breathe over her before closing his lips around it. And she really, _really_ liked it when, as he began to suck with more fervor and she changed the angle of her hips just enough, he eased a finger through her folds and teased her. 

He slipped his finger into her up to the first joint, then back out to circle up and back, and Rey bucked up and moaned. The sound died off into a whimper as he sucked her lips and pushed his finger deeper, letting his thumb brush the edges his mouth wasn't reaching. 

“Want more?” he asked her, taking a moment to kiss her thigh as he continued fingering her. 

She still had a hand loosely wound in his hair, but her other was busy at her breasts—she’d pawed one out of her bra cup and was thumbing the nipple in some slow rhythm of her own. All she managed was a breathy, “Don’t stop doing that,” and he returned to it. 

But only another minute passed before she breathed out hard and slid her heel down his back. “Ben—oh. Can you slow down? A little . . .” He did, letting his tongue slide gently along a particularly sensitive crease of skin, but evidently not enough. A few seconds later her nails were digging against his scalp. “Wait, wait.”

Rey moved away, still wrapped up in him and clumsy in her movements as she sat up halfway, legs crooked loosely around him, and Ben followed. He moved his face away and slid his fingers out of her, passing his palm once over his chin, but remained close. “Need me to try something else?”

“No. It’s not that. You’re great. I’m . . . I just . . .” she said, breathless, her face soft. Her hands went to his shoulders and she urged him to her as she straightened up further. “Don’t make me come yet. Kiss me. I wanna—”

He didn’t hear what she’d been about to say, because he started kissing her the instant she told him to, and she didn’t seem to want him to stop despite the interruption. Both of her hands were still clutching at his shoulders, as if he wouldn’t stay put if she let go—which was fine, because it left her breast open for him to take over where she’d left off as he slid the strap further down her shoulder.

She bit his lip lightly and pressed her mouth to his cheek. “Kiss me,” she repeated, rising to her knees, her voice husky and raw, almost begging even though she hardly needed to ask twice. “And put your fingers back in me. I want you to touch me, and I want you right here when you make me come.”

Ben opened his mouth to her and kissed her hard, tongue brushing hers, the force of his movement shifting her back a bit. His hand slid between her legs, palm instantly slick as one finger entered her smoothly, his thumb anchored near her clit. Rey pushed back with her whole body—her mouth insistent and needy against his, her firm breast pressed to his palm, her hips rocking into him as she rode his hand. 

His thumb slid forward, brushing her clit, and he brought his lips and teeth to her ear. “Do you like that?”

She bore down on the heel of his hand and his thumb slipped a second time. This time the only answer she gave was a throaty moan as she came and dug her nails into his shoulder. Her body folded forward into his, her hands still gripping hard even as the rest of her seemed to go limp. He let her lean her weight on him, slow to withdraw his hand completely, circling it around to her caress her butt and thighs when he did. Ben dipped his face to the crook of her neck and kissed her there again and again. She was covered in goose bumps and mouthing his chest and collarbone.

“Lie down,” he said, releasing her as she started to shift away. 

Rey only grinned and drew her arms around his neck. “Come with me. I’m not done with that mouth of yours.”

He followed her down and she rolled into him until they both ended up on their sides, where he relaxed into her embrace, letting his hips meet hers as she dragged a foot down his leg and brought her mouth back to his. A moment later her hand slid along his back, over his waist and hips, slipping beneath the waistband of his sweatpants to grope at his ass. He pressed her beneath him again and ground against her until he couldn’t help the short, ragged sounds the friction was drawing from him. It dimly occurred to him that this was absurd—she was as naked from the waist down as he was from the waist up, and between the two of them that fact was getting them precisely nowhere.

“Gotta get you out of these.” Rey bit his lip again, harder than she had earlier, still breathless, still grinning. She was cleaving herself to him so tightly it felt like she was trying to become a part of him. “You hard?”

“If I’m not I have a problem,” he muttered, fully aware that she was teasing him. She’d run her hand over the unmistakable bulge at the front of his pants barely a moment after asking. He sought her lips again as one of his hands snatched at her bra, which was still in disarray. ”Can you take this thing off? I’m probably gonna tear it if I try.” 

“Gladly.” She readjusted it, as if that mattered at this point, and began tugging at one of the straps. “If you’ll get out of your pants already.” 

Ben gave a short burst of laughter. She had a point. “Yeah, good.”

“Move back a bit,” Rey said as she prodded at his chest and sat up, deftly pulling her bra off in the next motion. She was still smiling cheekily, her face flushed. “Better?”

“Infinitely.” 

He pushed himself up to sit, threw a leg over her, and leaned into her until she was flat on her back. He hadn't seen her like this since that snowy night in December when they'd done this for what they thought would be the only time. They had been embarrassingly naive. Seeing her again now—and the realization this could be the first of _many_ times, and that it meant a whole lot more—sent a pang through his chest and a telltale throb through the rest of him. Ben had never been happier to be proved wrong. “Have I ever mentioned how perfect you are?”

She hummed at the question. “Not outright.”

He looked into her face, drinking in each feature—her bright eyes, her freckled nose, her sharp chin, the way her cheeks dimpled with every smile, the soft tendrils of her hair that framed it all—and thumbing over her wonderful lips as his other hand drifted over her neck and shoulder to her warm bare breast. He could feel her heart pounding under his palm, matched by his own as he fixed his eyes on hers. He dipped his face to kiss her. “You're perfect.”

“Flatterer,” she whispered. 

He almost laughed again, but managed just to smile into her lips. “I don’t flatter.” 

“True.” Rey’s hands were at his drawstring and then his waistband, beginning to tug his pants down over his hips. “And we had a deal.” 

“Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten.” His cock certainly hadn’t. The sweatpants weren’t particularly restrictive to begin with, but he was long overdue to be rid of them. He caught Rey at the wrists and shifted away before she could get him tangled up. “Hang on a second.”

With great reluctance, Ben got out of bed and crossed the room to the bureau, and Rey protested with a little growl of animal impatience that almost convinced him not to bother. He’d packed condoms in his bag before they’d left Philly two weeks ago, on the off chance something like this would happen. And then he’d promptly failed to leave them in a more convenient place like, say, the nightstand. It was far from his most ill-advised decision, but it was certainly an annoying one.

They were easy enough to find, though, buried in a side pocket, and he made his way back to Rey with the opened box in hand and slapped it victoriously down onto the nightstand.

She snorted. “Subtle.”

“Oh, are we going for subtlety now?” he replied, gesturing at her. 

She was sprawled naked on the bed, an arm behind her head and a leg bent casually, as if she lounged around like that all the time; he wouldn’t mind if she started to, after this. And if anyone wasn’t being subtle, it was her. Without preamble, he shed his pants and had to smother a satisfied smirk at the way she looked him over.

He was about to reach for the condoms when Rey sat up and turned to him, her legs dangling off the side of the bed, to run her hands over his waist. She dipped forward and stamped a single, open-mouthed kiss to the crease of his hip, then began to suck at the skin just above it. He felt her teeth there next, and her left hand skimming down to stroke him the way she had at the Supremacy. The only difference now was her utter lack of hesitance—she knew exactly what she wanted.

Ben had to force himself to focus. The twin sensations of her hand on his cock as she sucked at the skin mere inches from it was so consuming that he momentarily forgot how to speak. Had he been about to say anything?

“Mm, your skin is so soft,” she mumbled into him, still mouthing his groin. Her hand worked slowly down his shaft to finger distractedly over the slick tip. 

 

He would have laughed, maybe, or said something— _thank you_?—but she felt _too good_ , and when he found his voice he could only think of a half-formed question. ”Can you . . .”

It was easier just to do than ask, so he placed his hand over the one she had on him to show her where he most wanted her to touch him. He doubted there was any danger of her making him come yet, not unless she had suddenly decided she just wanted to give him a handjob, but he didn’t want to sacrifice any pleasure for that, either. He looked down at her when her mouth left him, and she held his gaze deliberately before her eyes slid back to the measured movement of their hands together. She bit her lips, and her tongue appeared for an instant to wet them as she watched his cock pulse slightly under her touch and attention.

He let go of her hand. “Go ahead.”

Rey’s mouth opened and she touched her tongue lightly to the tip, lapping at him once or twice before closing her lips loosely around it. Her fingers caressed him again, drawing higher, and he gasped hoarsely before he could get himself under control—but even then the sound just warped into a groan as she drew him deeper into the gentle wet heat of her mouth. She hummed against him, retracting to trace her tongue over the entire length of his cock while her free hand grasped his thigh, then moved again like she wanted to swallow him up a bit at a time.

“Rey, you’re . . .” He drew a hand roughly through his hair. He wanted her to keep going, but he also wanted to fuck her, enough that it seemed to verge more on need than want. And while tonight didn’t necessitate an either-or, if she made him come first, he’d have to wait. He didn’t feel like waiting, and he didn’t feel like making her wait, not even a little while. He reached down and squeezed her shoulder. “That feels so amazing, but right now I really want to just . . . bury my dick in you, so . . .”

“Mm hm.” 

She gave an assenting buzz of laughter and her lips sent the tiniest vibration through him with the sound, and Ben drew in another sharp breath as she released him to crawl her way back onto the mattress. He sat on the edge of the bed, pulse racing, tore open the condom wrapper, and was ready to go seconds later. He rolled onto his side and kissed her a few times, running a hand down her body and pulling her to him.

“Do you need anything before—”

“No, I need you to fuck me.”

“Good.” He kissed her again, massaged her thigh, trying to part her legs. “Get on top of me. I wanna see you.”

“Lie back, then,” she murmured, shoving his shoulder playfully. 

“Pushy.”

Her nose crinkled with a smile as she settled over him, and Ben was fairly certain he had never done anything in his life that could have earned him such an amazing view. Rey took him in her hand and guided him inside her, sinking onto him slowly with a sigh that was equal parts lovely and obscene. He grasped her hips, stretching his fingers over the curve of her ass, and could hardly decide where to settle his eyes—on the way her breasts flushed with her next gasping breath, on the beautiful sharp angles of her face from below, on the smooth lines of her waist, on the way his cock disappeared smoothly between her legs until he was completely sheathed within her. 

Rey drifted forward, pressing her hands into his chest and then the pillows on either side of his head, her stomach drawn and taut. “Just gotta—” She tilted her hips and pulled back until he slid out of her just a bit, then relaxed back onto him again. He propped himself up.

“You good?” He remembered what she’d said last time; if this wasn’t comfortable for her . . .

“Yes,” she said. “This is good. A bit different from when we . . .” She rolled her hips experimentally, adjusting again, a dimple appearing on her right cheek as the corners of her mouth ticked upward. “Hmm.” Her eyelids fluttered as her forehead met his. The slick tightness of her gliding over him made him breathe out hard, and she caught him with a brief kiss, barely brushing her lips to his. “I love you so much, Ben.”

He hadn’t been expecting that. They’d said it before, a handful of times after Rose’s apartment. But this was the first time since then that made Ben’s breath catch in his chest and flurry behind his ribs and sent a pleasant rush of heat through his limbs that had nothing to do with anything they’d spent the last minutes doing. 

He let her linger, stroked her face and shoulders. “I love you too.”

With her still leaning over him, he easily stretched up to trail light kisses to her throat and down to her breasts, open his mouth to each as he caressed the other, feel her nipples tighten on his tongue as he sucked at them and drew his teeth over the soft skin below until she was pink and glistening. Her breathing began to come harder as her thighs worked to let her slide up along his cock, then back down to rock her hips with increasing urgency against his.

“Here . . . Rey, wait.” He squeezed her thigh and nudged her leg up and over, murmuring into her ear. “Move this out, it’ll be better.”

She figured out what he was going for quickly enough, and helped him move her leg inside his and bend her other higher until it rested on his hip. He started to slip, but when he thrust himself back into her with a grunt in the next moment she gave a sound of approval as he held her tightly to him and rolled her a bit to the side until she could settle facing him.

“Better,” she agreed, immediately turning her face to the side of his neck and sucking at his skin gently. From this angle he had better control of his movements, of how deep or shallow he pushed himself into her, could pull back until her hips followed to keep him where she wanted, really feel the firm press of her around him—he grabbed roughly at her thighs to keep her close to him as he drew back and drove into her again. She gave a high-pitched gasp and dug her nails into his bicep. “Jesus, Ben.”

“Like this?”

“Yes,” she insisted. Her legs spread wider as she flattened herself against him. “Yes.”

Had he thought of this every night since he’d left Philadelphia? Not every night. Sometimes it was just a series of questions: _What is Rey doing right now? Is she okay? Is she safe?_

And other times his thoughts would drift, and _that_ night would come back like a tide rolling in. Rey by the fireplace of the Supremacy, her beautiful slender form softly backlit with unnatural clarity; the perfumed heat of her skin and sweat melting into his; the way she’d looked at him and kissed him and touched him and said his name, _his name_ ; and then, _then_ , he would force himself to remember reality. 

Reality, at the time, had been as unsavory as it was simple: That night was never going to happen again.

But it _was_ happening again, and while the first time had been better than it had any right to be, this time felt like everything it ought to. They had nothing to consider but each other. He didn’t have to choke her name down every time it dared to trip his tongue in the thrall of everything she was making him feel. This was different in the best ways, and the hesitation was gone, and there was still so much of her to learn. 

Her other hand was caught up in his hair and pulled, lightly at first and then slightly harder when her hips followed his as he moved back. She shuddered and ground into him again, more insistent, then suddenly eased off just as he felt her begin to contract tighter around him, drawing out the mounting of her pleasure and his each time, until he couldn’t take it and drove deeper into her. 

It began to feel as if each of them was daring the other to take it too far to pull back from—but it was Rey who let herself reach the finish first, her mouth inches from his and her nails at the back of his neck. Her whole body quaked and she gasped like the breath had left her. He tried to last as long as it took her to ride it out, but the way she was clinging to him and the sound of her sighs in his ear demanded a show of will power he could hardly claim to possess at that point. All he knew was the blood flooding his muscles and the way his heart seemed about to gallop out of his chest, and when he came the release was so intense he almost didn’t recognize the sound that escaped his throat.

Ben drew a few ragged breaths and helped Rey ease herself up and off of him, and they took care of postcoital necessities with as much haste as they could manage, eager to just be back in bed together. When he got back from the bathroom she was already waiting, lying there watching him intently as he settled in beside her. She immediately nestled into to crook of his arm. He wrapped himself around her, and for a while he let himself notice only the sounds of their breathing and the occasional car passing outside as her fingers drifted over his back.

He felt lazy and content and like he couldn’t fathom wanting to be anywhere but here, or with anyone else. But that thought made him punchy, too. With a sly twist of his mouth, Ben nipped at her throat and asked, “Did we just Netflix and chill?”

She gave a bark of laughter and squeezed her eyes shut. “I hate you.”

“Rude question?”

“No, just a stupid one. Because clearly that was HBO, and we fell asleep first.”

“I didn’t know there were so many rules.” He let her curl up closer beside him, and waited until she had ceased fidgeting to speak again. “You can show me the right way next time.”

“I would love to.”

He sighed deeply and closed his eyes. “It really pissed me off that we couldn’t do this before.”

“Hm?”

“Just lie here. Afterward.” 

He’d wanted to stay with her in that room, and feel her skin cool as their sweat dried, and her breathing slow against his neck. He’d wanted to tell her things he probably hadn’t even processed himself at that point. He’d wanted to hold her until she fell asleep. He wondered how that would possibly have gone. Would it have made the last months easier, or would something else have gone wrong instead? 

“I wanted that too.” Her voice held a smile when she added, “Too many prying eyes then.”

“Ugh, never again.” He only half-feigned a shudder as he nuzzled her shoulder. “I’m done squandering offers of privacy.” 

“Good. Because this place may be the most opportunity we get to be alone like this for a while.”

Loath as he was to admit it, Rey was right. They had two more nights here and then it was back to Philadelphia, where the most feasible options for spending the night together would be her small bed in her small room in Rose’s apartment, or his room at his parents’—the room he’d slept in his entire life until he’d left for college. And he had very mixed feelings about fucking Rey there, even if it were guaranteed that his parents were nowhere in the vicinity. That left the Tico apartment. Given what she had told him about her efforts to avoid overhearing Rose and Finn’s nocturnal activities, ‘privacy’ there was a dubious concept.

Still, annoying as that all was to consider, right now it inspired a more appealing notion. “So we should do this a few more times. At least. Make the most of it.” He cracked an eye open and grinned down at her. “I assume that’s what you’re saying.”

“Oh, definitely.” 

“I do mean right now. Just so you’re aware.”

Rey didn’t answer in any way that required words, but she made her message perfectly clear.

+++

Carefully, still groggy, Rey slipped out from under Ben’s arm and rolled over to face him. He stirred but didn’t wake, though she figured he might soon—it was midmorning and the sun wasn’t shy about cutting around the gaps in the shades and curtains. Sleeping in was still a strange concept to her. It felt like cheating, wasting time like that when she could be getting things done.

But what did she have to do here in Portland? Her days the last two weeks had been spent idly exploring a new city, enjoying nature, eating and resting and relaxing. She got up early every day anyway, but for no particularly good reason. She didn't have work. No one needed her to do anything. It was culture shock, like a leisure overload. Every morning she struggled against the idea that she didn’t deserve to enjoy such a lack of productivity.

This morning, though, it was precisely what she wanted, and she didn't feel even a bit guilty for enjoying it. There was a lot to enjoy: the almost unfair softness of the sheets on her skin; the sheer amount of space she had to stretch her still-waking limbs; the prospect of a crisp, sunny day waiting outside; Ben, asleep, right there. 

During those weeks they’d spent sleeping side by side for warmth on the couch of their old apartment, she would sometimes wake up first and find him like this. She hadn’t been able to stop herself watching him for a few seconds before she’d realized what she was doing and gotten embarrassed. Then she’d wake him up, act annoyed that he was pinning her in, or he’d grumble at her for sleeping on his arm and making it go numb—God they’d been idiots.

He looked so much less troubled now than he had then. The long lines of his face had eased and his mouth was softer, his jaw relaxed, his breathing even and deep. With care, she lightly traced his cheekbone with a finger, barely touching, then the bridge of his nose, and when that didn’t make him stir, his Cupid’s bow and slightly parted lips.

Ben twitched and woke, blinking rapidly and focusing on her a moment later. His gaze flicked down to her hand still touching his face, and he relaxed. “G’morning,” he mumbled, closing his eyes again. Rey took that as permission to continue, so she idly let her touch travel over his freckles and moles, the scar seaming his eyebrow, the spots on his cheeks she knew would form deep curves when he smiled or laughed.

“That feels nice.” He yawned and shifted nearer.

“Good,” she replied, giving in to a yawn of her own a moment later and bringing her lips to his briefly. “You drool in your sleep.”

He just frowned, eyes still closed as he reached over and rubbed her back, and asked, “What are your plans today? Aside from telling me things I already know.”

 _Staying here are long as possible_ was her first thought, but it was unrealistic. He had work some time in the afternoon, and she still had a small list of things she wanted to do and see with her last days in the city. But it was so hard to imagine wanting to be anywhere but in bed—how long had it been since Rey felt that way? Had she _ever_ felt that way? 

“I thought I’d check out the Saturday Market and then maybe see the Japanese garden,” she said after a few moments’ thought. “Or that museum . . . with the minerals?” Clearly, she had not quite hammered out a plan yet.

“Oh.” He exhaled heavily and rolled onto his back. “If you want to save one for tomorrow afternoon, I’ll come with you. Maybe the garden. The rocks sound more like your thing.”

“ _Minerals_. But yeah, that sounds good.” As much as she had been enjoying her own exploring, she didn’t foresee herself traveling like this in the near future, and it was nice to make these sorts of memories with him. As it was, this was the first time she’d ever been on anything resembling a vacation, and the farthest she had been from Philadelphia since she’d come there as a child. She shifted over to plant her chin on his chest, then stretched an arm to poke him in the ribs. “Why are you so wide? You’re like your own continent.”

Ben made a sound in his throat that told her he was not sure how to respond to that and so was likely going to ignore it. “Whatever, Rey Guns.” He pinched the underside of one of her arms and pinned her to him when she tried to tickle him in retaliation. “Want to go out for breakfast?”

“Are you asking me on a date?”

“Breakfast date, sure.”

She wormed her way on top of him as he loosened his arms around her and let her pin his wrists in turn. “Usually people go on the date _before_ they spend the night fucking each other, but . . .”

“We’ve been going out places,” he countered. That was true enough. Her joining him on this trip had meant their ‘let’s try dating when Ben comes back to Philly’ plan had gotten an earlier start than they’d foreseen. Still she made a face, and he nudged her with his knee. “And last night we had dinner first.”

“Yeah, with your uncle.”

He squinted and looked like he was only half convinced that the night before hadn't counted as a date, but Rey wasn't about to get hung up on particulars. If there was one thing that was likely to get her to consider getting up right now, he’d just identified it. Even so, she was reluctant to give up the feeling of his skin against hers, and when she agreed neither of them were in a rush to go anywhere. They managed to get out of bed, into the shower, dressed, and out the door little more than an hour later, though, which Rey thought was good enough. And Ben seemed to know exactly where he was going, but when she asked he refused to tell her and would only divulge that she would like it. 

Well, he was right about that. As soon as they walked through the bistro doors and stood aside just inside the entrance to wait for a table to open up—it was crowded and bustling with what must have been a typical brunch rush—she took the dining room in and felt a flicker of excitement. The space was open and airy, with full-pane windows and busy flocked wallpaper, antique mirrors in gilded frames on the walls and crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceilings, and she could smell fresh coffee and syrup and bacon. But she was unable to keep herself from wondering . . .

“This place is really nice,” she said in an undertone. The concern in her voice nearly belied her gratitude.

“It’s not,” he replied, trying to allay what they both knew was her instinctive concern about cost. His hand came to the small of her back, then inched around to rest at her hip as he corrected himself in the next breath. “It’s not _that_ nice. It just looks fancy.” He grimaced. “Not that I wouldn’t take you someplace that’s nice. Just don't worry about that stuff today.”

“I get it.” 

She laughed shortly and reached up to scratch her nails at the back of his neck, as much to pacify him as herself. Her hand lingered there under his hair and began to massage him idly as she got distracted by a tray of food going by. God, she wanted French toast, and eggs, and maybe sausage. And coffee, and a bloody Mary, and potatoes . . . this place looked like they’d make good cake, too.

They didn’t have to wait as long as Rey expected to be seated, and when they were it was at a table with an almost too-perfect view of the street. Ben sat with his back to the window, affording her the chance to watch pedestrians and cars pass the way she’d always liked to do for as long as she’d been friends him. It was as gloriously sunny out as she’d hoped it would be when she woke that morning, and again she was hit with a feeling that this was too good to be her life. This _was_ her life, though, and she had no reason to be anything but happy about it right now.

A server came by and they ordered coffees, and Rey tried to focus on the task of figuring out what to order. There were too many options, and she needed to be prudent here. But as she read the menu it was difficult to ignore the feeling that Ben was staring at her. He was trying to be sneaky about it, and he was doing a terrible job, which actually just made her notice it more. When he did it a fourth time, she looked up at him. “What?”

His eyebrows rose and he looked affronted, then shrugged and shifted his attention to his menu. “You look really pretty.”

“Oh.” 

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, and she gave a short, incredulous laugh. She liked the way she looked, most days. But she hadn’t put on any makeup that morning, or done anything with her hair, and she was wearing a baggy sweater she’d made years ago; not exactly her most glamorous look, or even her best casual one. His comment took her by surprise, too. When they'd lived together, Ben would tell her when she looked nice, sometimes, but was usually more the type to tell her if she had something stuck in her teeth or that one of her shoes had come untied.

“Thanks,” she said after another moment, reaching across the table to brush her hand over his. “So do you.”

He snorted, smirked at her, and returned to reading his menu as he distractedly ran his thumb over her knuckles. Without looking up, he said, “I was thinking, tonight, maybe we could fill up that jacuzzi tub and—”

“Ben Solo!”

In unison, they both jumped. He evidently knew the source of the voice, even if Rey did not, because his expression was one of recognition as his eyes settled somewhere behind her. She looked over her shoulder. A young woman was heading their way: dark curly hair, nose piercing, black-framed eyeglasses, green jacket. 

That was all she had time to process before she heard Ben reply. “Korrie?” Rey looked back at him as the woman came to a stop next to their table. “Korrie. Hey.”

“I won’t interrupt long,” the woman—Korrie, apparently—assured them. “I recognized your hair in the window though as I was going by, wanted to say hi. Sorry, I didn’t realize . . .?” She eyed Rey expectantly, then looked back to Ben.

“Shit. Right. Rey, this is Korrie. Korrie, Rey.” Rey smiled, still confused, until he elaborated. “Korrie did my arm.”

So this was the tattoo artist he’d gone on the date with, and apparently blown the same date with, from what he’d told her. Now that she had the benefit of a few seconds, Rey realized she knew the name. As for Korrie, she didn’t seem to hold it against him. To the contrary, she looked genuinely happy to have run across them both.

“Rey the roommate!” She said it like Ben had just introduced her to a celebrity. That sort of fit, though—his inability to stop talking about Rey during his date with Korrie had been the primary cause of its failure.

“Rey the . . .” Ben began. He looked questioningly at Rey and tilted his head. “Girlfriend.”

That was new. By now it was a foregone conclusion, but this was the first time she’d actually heard him refer to her that way. She liked it. “Right. Hi, Korrie. Nice to meet you.”

She realized that Ben was still holding onto her hand, and slipped it away to straighten back up and give Korrie her full attention. This was a little funny, though Rey wasn’t quite sure what to say. It seemed like bringing up the story he had told her of the last time he’d seen Korrie before coming back to Philly might just make things uncomfortable, at least for him, so she latched onto the only other thing she really knew about her.

“The tattoo’s really lovely,” she said, glancing at Ben and back to Korrie. “Is the place you work at nearby?”

“Not too far. About twenty minutes or so on the MAX. Quicker if you drive.” Korrie gave Rey a curious look and dug around in the pocket of her jacket for a few seconds before coming up with a creased business card and handing it over.

“Mirrorbright Studio and Gallery,” Rey read aloud. “I like the name.”

“Stop by, if you want. See the art. We have shows sometimes.” As Rey made a mental note to consider doing just that if she had the chance before they left, Korrie turned her focus back to Ben, whose silence was starting to seem strange. “I ran into Joph the other day. He said you’d gone back to Philly for a weekend, then came back and put in your two week’s notice. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s okay,” Ben told her, finally relaxing back into his seat. “I’m just moving back. Living out here’s been great, but it made me realize I belong somewhere else.”

“Right, right. Good for you. Glad to hear it.” Korrie was nodding slowly. “Well, I’d love to get a drink with you two to send you off, if you’ve got time before you go.”

Rey pocketed the business card and leaned her elbows on the table. “We’ve got a red-eye Monday, so maybe tomorrow night? What do you think, Ben?”

“Okay, sure. Packing’s practically done. You’ve still got my number?” Ben asked Korrie, retrieving his phone from his coat pocket and checking something. “Yours is here—pick a place and let us know?”

“Sounds like a plan. I will give you a heads up later.” She backed up a few steps and gave a half bow with her hands in her pockets, then fixed Rey with a pointed look. “And seriously, stop in if you have some free time, we like to show off whether or not you want the art actually on you.”

“I will,” Rey promised, already working out how she could fit it into her day later. She sensed that Korrie wasn’t just trying to be polite, or land a client. Whatever impression Ben had made on her last month, evidently the one he’d given her of Rey had been glowing. “See you.”

“Thanks for stopping in, Korr,” Ben added. Amused, he nudged Rey’s leg under the table as Korrie made her exit. “Making new plans?”

“Sort of. I’m just wondering if I’ll have time to stop in to see her later and get an inky souvenir of my own. Maybe a tiny sword right here,” she said, flashing him the side of her middle finger. She was only half kidding—the idea was appealing, and it couldn’t possibly take that long. “Orrr, sorry, a _saber_?”

“Hm. Right.” He looked doubtful, which just made her want to do it more. “Well, if you do, be advised that any stories she may tell about me crying while she tattooed me are greatly exaggerated.”

Their coffees arrived and they placed their food orders, and Rey let herself enjoy the dark, bitter taste of her drink and the companionable silence with Ben as she watched strangers go about their mornings outside. She’d loved people-watching since she was a kid. It didn’t cost any money, it was something she could do almost anywhere, it passed the time and stimulated her mind, and it felt like an escape. 

This morning, she didn’t want to escape, or speculate about the lives of people she would never talk to or know. She was thinking about her life, and about what she was doing now, and about the future. Hers and Ben’s, what they might hold, how they would continue to converge. The idea that they could—that they would—filled her with hope, and for once it wasn’t riding on desperate actions and half-formed plans. This was good; _she_ was good.

“What’re you thinking about?” Ben picked up the French press and refilled her cup, then his own, watching her. “You seem far away.”

“Actually, I was just thinking how nice it is to be here.” As she took a sip of her coffee, she narrowed her eyes at him over the rim of the mug. “Though, tell me more about your ideas for the jacuzzi later. Can’t hurt to plan for the future.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, some new and gratuitous additions to the 'ASOTAF' playlist over on [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/christa.cordero/playlist/6d8DONE0wOAhugyNWgPHh1).
>
>> Business Time - Flight of the Conchords  
> Slow Hands - Niall Horan  
> Seven Hours - Little May  
> I Wanna Fuck You Til I’m Dead - YACHT  
> Everybody Wants to Love You - Japanese Breakfast  
> 


End file.
